TRANSCRIPT

I’m Maggie Smith, and this is The Slowdown.

The first time I realized the power of a strong last line, it had nothing to do with poetry. It didn’t even have anything to do with writing. I was a child at the dinner table trying to keep up with my father’s witty banter.

I’d learned at an early age that keeping up with adult conversation — and getting a laugh — was rewarded. And as I sat there … listening closely … paying attention to my father’s chatter… I realized the shape of a funny anecdote is circular. You have to bring it back around. It’s true of jokes, too: The best punch lines catch you off guard, but they don’t come out of nowhere. They connect back to something while also springing you forward.

The same is true, I think, when it comes to writing. The best endings feel both surprising and inevitable. They close a piece while creating an opening at the same time — a widening of the aperture. They make it feel complete but leave space for the reader to participate.

Some of my favorite poems end on a significant image or a line of dialogue that sticks with the reader. Some endings revisit an image or phrase from earlier in the piece, creating that sense of coming full circle — a sense of closure and cohesiveness. Others introduce something new at the end that shakes the reader by their shoulders.

I warn students to resist the temptation to tie up every loose end in a piece. I often suggest they let their poem or essay end on a more open note, to allow the reader a way into the piece. If we close every door to funnel the reader toward a specific experience or conclusion, we deny the reader some important pleasures in the text.

We call an ending “resonant” because it does what a bell does: After it’s rung, the vibration lingers. It reverberates. It sticks with you long after you’ve read the piece, humming in your head.

Today’s poem is beautiful start to finish, but the ending astonished me. It moved me to tears, which caught me by surprise! If you don’t know this poem, I’m envious that you get to experience it for the first time.

Nobody’s Job
by Ronna Bloom

When you were dying, I held up the phone and a voice said,
We love you. We’re proud of you. Go free.
And you scattered.

Moments before, you held up your hand
and I read our future in your palm.
Our paths wandered up your fingers and scattered. 

The stars shushed each other. 
The moon turned on her usher’s light,
and the road went on.

*

When I was grieving, I saw 
that it was no one’s job to take care of me
however sad I got. 

Surprised. I’d thought we all had someone
or that everyone’s job was to look after everyone. 
But it’s not true. 

And I gathered myself
and sent myself everywhere
and went free.

“Nobody’s Job” by Ronna Bloom from IN A RIPTIDE © 2025 Ronna Bloom. Used by permission of Brick Books.